


London In Your Eyes

by quarterveela



Series: Once Upon a December [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Daryl Dixon is Bad at Feelings, F/M, Secret Santa, a lil cute a lil sad a lil slowburn, it's december that means it's time for christmas fics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27934276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quarterveela/pseuds/quarterveela
Summary: After pulling your name for Secret Santa, Daryl comes and finds you at the Christmas fair.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon & You, Daryl Dixon/You
Series: Once Upon a December [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049057
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	London In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Last December by Nina Nesbitt.

Against the soft blankets of snow that had long settled since the beginning of December, flashes of red and green could be seen wherever you looked from the guard tower. Amongst them were shadows you recognised, the figures of the people weaving themselves in and out of various stalls that had been set up for the Christmas fair.

You wanted to object to it the first time The King brought it up, especially after the events that occurred at the original. It seemed futile, you weren’t sure you could take another massacre, and it was too God damn cold to be lingering outside. And yet, you folded.

You couldn’t argue with hope. And if Ezekial was good at anything, it was inspiring just that.

Snowflakes had begun to dance in the evening air once more as you diverted your attention back towards the forest that surrounded the walls. You could hear Luke sing what sounded like a song you used to know but couldn’t quite make out as he made his way to his stall where he had wooden instruments up for trade. Down the same lane were various baked goods and crafts made by different members of the community. The kids even had their own art stall, endearingly decorated with looped paper covered in paint and cotton wool shaped into snowmen.

Ezekiel had asked if you wanted to contribute anything. You declined, not because you didn’t want to help but because playing pretend had never been something you were good at -- even as a kid yourself. And especially at Christmas time.

Of course, you played it off a lot more casually than that. You weren’t one to divulge the details of traumas that no longer mattered in the grand scheme of things. After making fun of your lack of artistic talent you insisted on keeping watch for the majority of the evening so that everyone else could enjoy what the fair had to offer. You knew where you stood in that tower. You couldn’t feel the tip of your nose and you had to keep bouncing your knees to maintain circulation, but you felt secure.

You brought your gloved hands up to your mouth and huffed, allowing the warmth to wash over your fingers. You had been up there for several hours now and the most exciting thing to happened was a walker in a hard hat causing a scene by clanging its head against the metal walls. Someone else manning the perimeter had dealt with it, taking what little entertainment you could have had away from you, but at least no one had to worry about an oncoming herd.

“Hey.”

You turned swiftly towards a voice drenched in a Southern drawl, eyebrows raised in surprise soon knitting themselves together.

“You need to stop doing that.”

“Doin’ wha’?”

“Sneaking up on me.”

Daryl Dixon was one of few people who got the jump on you and it was equal parts annoying and endearing. You stood upright from the post you had been leaning on and took a couple of steps towards him, eyes adjusting to his height as you did so.

“Didn’ mean to.” He confessed, “Thought you might be bored.”

“Maybe a little.” You sighed, “I’m mostly just cold.”

He watched you carefully, one hand fiddling with something in his jacket pocket while the other swung at his side holding a large flask. Your cheeks and nose were pink and he found himself indebted to the harsh winds that were to blame.

“Is that-”

“Mulled wine.” He interrupted, “Whatever tha’ is.”

The pair of you had been dancing around something unspoken for the past year, aware but unwilling to cross a line that could ruin the comfort you found in each other. That and you had both seen what happened to people who got attached to others. It was uncharted territory neither of you had ventured into with anyone for a long long time, and though he often daydreamed of you like a teenager and you were constantly worrying about him, the risk seemed too much.

“You’ve never had mulled wine?” You asked curiously, taking the flask he handed to you and shivering slightly as you wrapped your palms around it, “It’s really good actually. And hot.”

The question may as well have been rhetorical. The pair of you hadn’t shared a great deal about your lives before the dead took over, but he had told you enough that you knew Daryl was raised on beer and moonshine. You cared for neither, admittedly. Gin had always been your vice.

“Besides, I thought you liked to drink alone Dixon.”

He exhaled in amusement but didn’t offer a retort. Instead he stepped towards the cabinet at the back of the watch tower and retrieved a large blanket. Your mouth practically dropped to the floor and he fought a smile from creeping onto his lips.

You hadn’t even thought to check. Your cheeks grew even pinker.

“C’mon. Ain’t’ nothin’ happenin’ in the next ten minutes.”

With furrowed brows you looked back out onto the forest, studying its movement and mystery. Chances are, he was right. Nothing had happened so far and nothing likely would, but that didn’t stop you from worrying.

“Don’ make me take back tha’ wine.”

“No! Don’t you dare.” You whipped your head back towards him and narrowed your eyes. “It’s _warm_.”

“So’s this blanket. Come on.”

You made a point of rolling your eyes as you followed Daryl out onto the deck. Before you could complain about the cold (which honestly wasn’t that much worse than inside the tower) Daryl had shook out the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders. You mumbled a thank you as he lowered himself to the ground and allowed his legs to swing free over the edge of the deck. You followed suit, the flask of hot mulled wine still between your hands acting like your own personal furnace.

It was darker now and hundreds of lights had been switched on so that people could still find their way around the fair. Even you couldn’t deny the wonder and whimsy of it all. Kids were throwing snowballs, families were laughing and making memories that were worth something. There was makeshift tinsel and decorations all over the place and the rich scent of pig and apple sauce hung in the air. In the sweet silence you shared with the archer, there was a moment you forgot where you were. The world you now lived in was an afterthought, and the Christmas fair was an almost perfect picture of somewhere you yearned to be. 

Daryl noticed the unmistakable twinkle of mourning in your eyes before you could even try to force a smile. He reached for the flask and took it from you, unscrewing its lid and pouring you a cup of mulled wine. He took a swig straight from the bottle and though he furrowed his brows and smelled the contents immediately afterwards, he didn’t complain.

“Ain’t ever seen nothin’ like this.” He offered.

You took a large sip and closed your eyes, savouring every note that swam across your tongue.

“I have. A long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

Your eyes flit open and you looked right at him. In what little light was left you could see his lips were already slightly stained red. You didn’t doubt your own were the same. He watched your mouth as you took another sip.

“My family was close. Always saved up their holidays so we could get a long Christmas together.” You found yourself lowering your gaze as you spoke, soon returning it to the hustle and bustle before you, “Spent a couple years in London. They had markets just like these. Winter Wonderland I think they called it. Never thought I’d see anything like it again.”

It was abundantly clear from the very beginning that the pair of you had led very different lives before the world went to waste. He liked talking about his past even less than you did and for very different reasons too. You never pushed like some of the other’s did. In the end that was likely what pushed you both together.

“It’s funny how shit like that sneaks up on you.” You continued, “Every time I think I’ve moved on or let something go it just… I don’t know. None of this should even matter anymore.”

“You got a past worth rememberin’.” You felt a large hand tug at the blanket hanging around you, pulling it to make sure it didn’t fall, “Ain’t no shame in that.”

In truth, Daryl enjoyed listening to you reminisce. It was a rare gift you offered him, one that he would have found annoying from anyone else considering the stark differences in your upbringing. But you spoke about your past like you were telling a story, keeping that little bit of distance so it didn’t wash over you all at once. Whether you knew it or not, you handed him another puzzle piece every time you let him in. He could sit there and listen to you for hours. He wanted to.

A calloused hand found its way into his jacket once again, fiddling with a small object wrapped in aluminium foil. Now didn’t seem appropriate. He still had time.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“Nah.” His cheeks said otherwise, “Wines doing the trick.”

You pulled your legs up and shimmied a little closer to him to him anyways before forcing your arm through his. He didn’t object, not even when you leaned on him a little.

“What other shit did they have in London?” He pushed.

“Mulled cider. That’s probably more up your street” You took your last sip before nudging him to top the cup up, “I used to love these little pancake balls covered in Nutella, strawberries, and icing sugar. Wasn’t Winter Wonderland unless I was covered in chocolate by the end of it.”

Daryl slowly lowered the side of his head down onto yours. It didn’t feel like too much, like you’d suddenly catch yourself and make excuses to go back on watch. Instead, you kept talking, and Daryl kept fiddling with the gift in his pocket.

“I remember it being loud. Music and people everywhere. And it was cold, but never as cold as this. Didn’t really snow there, which I always thought was weird.”

“If you wan’ loud I heard Luke and Jerry were gon’ go carollin’ later.”

A chuckle escaped you as you took another gulp of wine, “You know what, I think I’ll stay up here.”

Comfortable silence took over as you both watched the fair. It had barely quietened down, even though a lot of people had begun their ride back to Hilltop or Alexandria. It was the first time in a long time that there wasn’t a human threat to worry about, so why wouldn’t people make the most of a time like this? You only wished you could let go like others could.

“Oh, shit.” You sat up suddenly, “I forgot about that Secret Santa thing Jerry made us do.”

“Who’s name d’ya pull?”

“It’s supposed to be _Secret_ Santa.” You paused and sighed, “I pulled Jesus. Is this irony? It feels ironic. I’ll figure it out.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Daryl’s lips as he leaned forward onto the wooden barrier keeping them from falling if either of them were to take a wrong step. He felt something gnawing at him in the pit of his stomach, and he swallowed hard in a futile attempt to get rid of it before clearing his throat.

“Who’s name did you pull?”

“Like ya’ said, it’s _Secret_ Santa.” He grumbled.

You rotated yourself slightly to face him, allowing just one leg to hang free from the deck whilst the other was bent at the knee. 

“Don’t be an asshole, Dixon.” You pleaded, “Tell me!”

“Mind ya’ business.”

“Unless it’s me I don’t see why you can’t tell me.”

Daryl stayed quiet and you couldn’t help but laugh in both amusement and disbelief.

“You’re _kidding_. Did you really get me something?”

“Will you shut up? You ain’t even s’posed t’ know.”

He finally turned his head to find you unable to suppress the grin spreading across your face. Your eyes were twinkling again, but not with the sadness of earlier. That paired with the blush on your nose and cheeks from the cold and your little hands clinging desperately to the blanket around you made it impossible to say no. That gnawing feeling grew and he took a large breath before retrieving his hand from his pocket.

“Don’ tell Jerry.”

He passed you an strangely shaped object covered in aluminium foil. You took it from him and beamed. You weren’t sure why you were surprised he actually got you something. Maybe it was the fact he thought to wrap it at all, or that he was trying to follow the rules so it really would be a surprise. Would you have ever known it was him if you hadn’t pestered him in this moment? You held the gift in your hands as if it could break at any second whilst your heart was attempting to beat itself out of your chest.

“Do you want me to wait?” You asked, just in case, “I can open it later.”

Daryl shook his head and grabbed the flask again, taking several gulps to warm up his insides. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, studying your features carefully waiting for a sign of repulsion or embarrassment. It never came and without realising it his own features softened.

“It’s yours. Sorry I couldn’ find any paper.”

“It’s shiny _and_ it serves its purpose.” You responded without hesitation, “It’s perfect.”

You carefully unfolded the foil in a futile attempt not to tear it and destroy the fantasy Daryl had created for you. The intricate motions felt painfully slow, and with every layer you tore away the nastier the self-deprecation in his head got. He felt stupid for trying. Was it too much? Was it not enough? He had no fuckin’ idea. Even before the world went to shit he didn’t come from the kind of family that exchanged gifts. He wanted to run, but he couldn’t. All he could do was drink and bite at the skin of his lips until they bled.

“Oh my god.”

He swallowed hard and braced himself for the worst. Your eyebrows were drawn together as you studied the object in all its detail. Eventually you shook it, and you grinned again.

“Where the hell did you find something like this?”

It was a snowglobe, somehow perfectly intact despite the number of years it had been collecting dust in a world full of violence and filth. Daryl had stumbled upon it on a run where he had found a strip of houses to loot. It was sat on a mantelpiece, and though Daryl didn’t know much about England or even London, he knew about Big Ben.

You shook it again and laughed. He watched you gaze at it in wonder, eyeing the details on the clock tower as plastic snow danced around it. Most of his anxieties melted away at the sight of that alone, but he still felt uneasy, as if he had done something wrong.

“I love it, Daryl. I didn’t even realise I’d spoken about London before.”

He nodded, his words stuck in the back of his throat. You had only mentioned London once before, something in passing, but he remembered. He remembered everything you said to him over the years. Maybe that was why this felt so wrong, as if he had taken this -- whatever _this_ is -- too far.

Your heart was still thumping. Daryl had never been a talker, but he’d also never failed to show you that he cared. Even just by doing little things like making sure you ate properly or were sleeping okay. This was a different kind of show and tell and you weren’t sure what to do with it. 

Your affection for the archer had snuck up on you a long time ago and you usually found it quite easy to push it down and away. There were other things to concern yourself with, things to do to make sure not just you but your community could survive. But right now you were stuck in a loop. Behind his grouchy disposition was a warmth you desperately wanted to wrap yourself in.

The blanket wasn’t enough. Not right now. 

“It’s nothin’.” He finally responded, and this time you were lost for words.

You turned back towards the fair, avoiding his blue gaze as you thought to yourself. Neither of you knew what the hell this was or what the hell you were doing. You had spent so much time ignoring or rejecting the possibility of something more that now it had slapped you both across the face you were dumbfounded.

Was it supposed to be this complicated? This confusing? Or was it actually not at all and you were both just useless at all of this?

Tomorrow things would likely carry on as normal but right now, things were different. Something had shifted and it was entirely possibly you had been forced into the uncharted territory you were both so scared of. 

You swallowed hard shimmied closer to him again. Using your free arm, you tried to fling half of the blanket around his broad shoulders. It fell off of him immediately, but he didn’t question it. He picked it up, nudged closer to you, and wrapped it around himself.

A sigh of relief escaped you. Not just because he took the blanket but because he was practically a radiator. 

“I knew you were cold.” Your words were soft, almost hesitant despite being teasing.

Daryl looked down at you, his tongue flitting across his bottom lip as he watched you watch the world go by at the Christmas fair. He carefully sought out your hand with his own, and without even thinking about it you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his.

“You’re the one wi’ blue fingers.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder again with a smile and allowed whatever excuses he made to comfort him. The fact you didn’t pull away was enough, and though he always knew you wouldn’t be as rough and calloused as he was, he couldn’t quite get over how soft your fingers were.

“Did you want to look around the fair?”

He allowed his thumb to glide across the back of your hand.

“Nah. I like it up here.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first fanfiction I have written in literal years. I'm a little nervous but excited and would really love to know what people think. ♥


End file.
